


The Neden Game

by Laurasauras



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Clown Shenanigans, Crotch Sniffing, Cunnilingus, Dominance, F/M, Fascism, Foot Fetish, Gamzee Makara Talking, Insults, Lactation Kink, Loud Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, References to Other Kinks, Semi-Public Sex, Side-Clown, The Homestuck Epilogues: Candy, Unhappy marriage, vulgarity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22331353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: It’s lonely, being a fascist dictator. Luckily, Jane’s clown of many years will never abandon her. Jane and Gamzee share some intimate time at her office.
Relationships: Jane Crocker/Gamzee Makara
Comments: 14
Kudos: 33





	The Neden Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [romulusgloriosus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romulusgloriosus/gifts).



> I asked if my lovely commissioner had any limits before I wrote this and they said no. They also told me to “take all that time you'd put into world building and just put it into utter filth”. The result of this is, I hope, the literary equivalent of being turkey-slapped at least ten times in a row, and then as you’re sitting there in astonishment, you’re unexpectedly tea-bagged. 
> 
> I have no idea if this is the worst thing I’ve ever written or the best. At the very least, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. I thought I was using the words “up and” too frequently, then reread Gamzee’s pesterlogs and now fear I might not have used them enough, but I’m only so strong. Please read those tags before proceeding and let me know if I missed anything!
> 
> (Title from the ICP song of the same name. Did you know ICP were professional wrestlers?)

The problem with Jake English, Jane thinks, as though she could ever really sum it up as _one_ problem, is that he never learned that sometimes people say things they don’t mean, or that they change their minds, or that they straight up lie. Perhaps if she were more forthright, more like … but that’s not the point. A lady is expected to occasionally obscure the truth in polite society and he never, ever reads between the lines. In fact, she’s not sure if he can read full stop.

And worse, he applies this ridiculous obtuseness to himself and his own feelings with even more enthusiasm than he does even with hers! She’s told them that they are together, and since that time he’s decided that that’s how it must be, that there can be no _development._

Not that Jane doesn’t want to be with him. She definitely does, if for no other reason than his significant political clout. And his significant visual clout, situated primarily between his thighs and lower back.

 _You can’t be nice to Jake,_ Dirk used to say. Being nice to Jake makes him spook, he knows he doesn’t deserve nice and he runs away from it and suddenly you’re helping him set up direct debit for child support, that’s where _nice_ gets you. _Treat him like the idiot he is, Jane._

Sometimes she feels relieved that Dirk passed away, because there’s no way she would be in charge of her own life if Dirk was still around to tell her what to do. Other times she hates him fiercely for abandoning her and leaving her with weaklings who awkwardly but politely skirt around any subject more serious than catering in order to remain “politically neutral”. And for not being around to tell her what to do.

These are perhaps uncharitable thoughts to be indulging in as she watches Jake sitting on Tavros’s playroom floor, making large gestures as he regales their son with some nonsense story. The video feed is active, but the sound is muted. Jake’s voice, though rich and deep, grates on Jane right now. She often wishes she could mute him in real life, that she could do _something_ to make him less repulsive to her.

She sighs heavily and presses a button to switch the viewport to that of her company’s main floor. Most of her staff are human, but Roxy urged her to hire a few carapacians for filing and such and they haven’t yet disappointed her. The only troll she associates with these days is beneath her desk, ostensibly massaging one of her feet. Gamzee’s massages tend to involve more tongue than others she has received.

She sighs again, even louder, and Gamzee obligingly stops sucking on her toe, letting it pop out of his mouth with a wet sound that is almost distracting enough to draw Jane’s attention from the sensation of saliva dripping from her foot.

GAMZEE: wHaT’s WrOnG, mY mOsT sQuIrTy Of SuGaRtItS?  
JANE: Sometimes I feel that it’s a lot to take on.  
JANE: My business, the pressures of motherhood, the global political situation.  
JANE: I’m grateful, of course. I’m in a position of great importance.  
JANE: And it is my job, not only as one of the gods, but as the only _qualified_ god, to take an active part in the shaping of our world.

Her gaze drifts to her collection of diplomas, so numerous that they occupy a whole wall of her sizable office. Karkat Vantas doesn’t have _any_ certificates. 

Gamzee wriggles out from under her desk with the hypnotic grace of a creature that doesn’t have legs, or maybe has many legs, and lurches upright, knocking clumsily against her chair and causing it to roll backwards a few inches. Jane glares at him, but he doesn’t notice, his attention over her head at her wall of achievements instead.

GAMZEE: wHy WaS a MoThErFuCkEr AlL tO bE dWeLlInG oN tHe WaLl?  
JANE: It’s not about the wall!

Jane slides her heels back on, pushes out of her chair and stands next to Gamzee. She knows that he forgets 80% of whatever she says to him, and yet she can’t help but continue to at least attempt to educate him.

JANE: These degrees represent the faith dozens of universities on Earth C have in my business acumen. And, in one case, my proficiency in Spanish, but that was just because the Carapacian College of Language wanted to honour me in some way and didn’t have anything more relevant.  
GAMZEE: wOaH, yOu SpEaK sPaNiSh?  
JANE: No, not at all. That’s not the point.   
GAMZEE: RiGhT bOoBaLiCiOuS, yOu CoNnEd ThE sHiT oUt Of ThOsE mOtHeRfUcKeRs.  
JANE: No!  
GAMZEE: YoU dOn’T hAvE tO pLaY pRoFeSsIoNaL wItH mE, nAnNa.  
GAMZEE: YoU kNoW i LiKe It WhEn YoU’rE mOtHeRfUcKiN  
GAMZEE: RUTHLESS.  
GAMZEE: hOnK. :o)

Jane is long past the times when she would shiver at the way some of Gamzee’s words came out. Clear and deliberate and loud, with all the measured firmness that spoke of _intent._ It doesn’t mean anything when he does that, though. Most of him doesn’t mean anything.

JANE: I’m not ruthless. I’ll accept ambitious or driven, but I would never go so far as to be termed anything that might imply cruelty.  
JANE: And I didn’t con anyone.  
JANE: You’re just not aware of how the world works.

She takes a steadying breath. It’s not as if she doesn’t know what’s happening. This is why she keeps him around, after all. He makes her mad like no one else can. And when the press or her staff or _John_ come at her with anything, she can handle it. She’ll never lose her temper when it counts so long as she has him.

JANE: I was raised knowing that I would always inherit the most powerful company to have ever existed.   
JANE: My father tried to give me a normal life, but I prepared myself.   
JANE: I was subject to assassination attempts!  
GAMZEE: i’M jUsT yOuR sIlLy SeX cLoWn AnD mY bRaIn Is AlL pOkEd WiTh HoLeS fRoM tHe NaStY pIeS wHaT i ShOvEd In My ToE sUcKeR,  
GAMZEE: bUt I aIn’T tO bE sEeInG hOw BeInG gOoD aT mOtHeRfUcKeRs WaNtInG tO uP aNd CoRpSiFy YoUr HeFtY sItLuMpS iS tHe SaMe As BeInG fIsCaLlY rEsPoNsIbLe, HoNk.  
JANE: You!

The breath leaves Jane’s lungs without her feeling the exhale. Hot pinpricks dance along her arms and her heart speeds up. Arousal and anger share a lot of the same symptoms, and Jane isn’t entirely sure she can tell them apart anymore.

JANE: How could you understand what I lived through!?  
JANE: You couldn’t comprehend a fist to your codpiece, you _freak!_  
GAMZEE: mAmA yOuR nOiSeS bE sO mOtHeRfUcKiN mUsIcAl WhEn YoU aLl Be HaViN a BiG tAnTrUm.  
GAMZEE: LeT tHoSe RuMbLeSpHeReS dAnCe BaByCaKeS!

Jane lets out a shriek of rage that by all rights should necessitate investigation from one of her very well paid security guards. But they have, through brutal experience, learned the distinct difference between Jane’s pleasure noises and the ones that indicate she needs help. Well, it's more that they have never known her to need help and that every time they investigate a suspicious noise they see more of Gamzee than anyone could ever want to see, so they now just pretend not to hear anything and drink heavily after their shifts.

JANE: YOU LOATHSOME CREATURE!!!  
JANE: HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME THIS WAY!!!!!   
JANE: I AM JANE _FUCKING_ CROCKER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gamzee looks at Jane with half lidded eyes and licks his already spit-shiny lips. He chooses to drop to the floor by performing a jazz split and Jane bares her teeth angrily at him for the brief moment before he starts making out enthusiastically with the seam of her inner thigh. 

There’s always a moment in these dalliances where Jane thinks she’s too angry to let him placate her with sex. When she thinks that any woman with self respect would kick him in the codpiece and stand proud and alone. But this isn’t real hate or real anger, she reminds herself. This is her kismesis and she’s right to feel this way about him. It’s funny. His ridiculous alien culture is funny. And it works for them. 

She lifts her foot with the grace of a woman who can walk miles in heels without missing a step, and presses the toe to Gamzee’s forehead, the point of the heel barely brushing his lips. She pushes him to the ground with a slow, controlled movement and stands above him, one foot on either side of his hips.

GAMZEE: CoMe To PaPa GaMzEe, LiTtLe LaDy. :o)

Jane drops to her knees _just_ slower than someone confined by the laws of gravity might have. Gamzee’s hands trail up the backs of her calves, then her thighs, the tips of his long fingers reaching to the sensitive skin hidden by her suit pants before he grabs two handfuls of her ass.

GAMZEE: HoNk. ;o)

Gamzee pulls Jane’s hips closer to him, lifting his head and shoulders off the floor in his eagerness to meet her crotch. He sniffs with great gusto, pressing his nose to her zipper forcefully. He looks up at Jane with a satisfied glint in his hazy eyes, because he knows how she feels about his greasy facepaint smearing on her clothes. She’ll tell him off afterwards, and he knows she will too, but she can’t now. She can’t have him stopping, not when he’s shamelessly demonstrating how much he desires her.

One of the hands relaxes its grip on her ass and slides between her legs. He doesn’t handle her like glass, his fingers are firm and insistent. He knows what he wants, and Jane knows too. He wants her wet so he can smell her more.

It should be embarrassing, it _used_ to embarrass her, but so did a lot of things. Now she cups the back of his head and presses him even closer, grinding up to meet him. He drags his bottom lip open with considerable effort and licks messily at her. Jane’s eyes slip closed. 

There’s something about the way he rubs his fingers over her with indiscriminate eagerness that makes her feel like this is a fast and dirty tryst, as though they can’t be caught or they’re new and desperate about it.

Gamzee pulls back with a noisy slurp and fumbles with her pants button. Jane smacks his hands away and leans back to undo them herself. Gamzee slides further underneath her, sniffing noisily before licking with quick laps of his long tongue, as if drinking from a bowl like a dog. Jane’s made him do that before. He does anything she tells him, but unlike Jake it’s not because she owns him. It’s because he loves being her clown.

JANE: Stop that. Sit in front of me.

Her voice sounds as sharp as ever. Nothing can rumple her composure. Not even the satisfaction of being obeyed like this. He could refuse, she doesn’t frighten him at all, but he won’t. He likes it.

JANE: You disgusting thing. What am I supposed to do with you?  
GAMZEE: WhAtEvEr YoU lIkE, mIsTrEsS mAmA. ;o)  
JANE: Yes.

Jane breathes out slowly and pulls her blouse off. Gamzee’s eyes lock onto where her nipples are hidden by her bra. She’s taken to wearing padded bras, not through any desire to enhance her already large bosom, but because her body can’t help but react to him looking at her like that. 

She unclasps her bra and her nipples tighten even further as the air-conditioned room hits their wet surfaces. Gamzee stays transfixed and on his back for several seconds, his eyes on her breasts. Milk drips from her nipples and down the curve of her skin before falling onto Gamzee. 

He lurches upright, reaching for her waist, but Jane anticipates this and strikes out with her hand, catching him on the forehead with her palm. He doesn’t seem to feel it, but pushes against her stubbornly for a moment before giving up.

GAMZEE: TiDdY qUeEn, I nEeD yOuR hUmAn MoO jUiCe, YoU gOtTa GiVe It To Me.  
JANE: I don’t have to do anything.   
JANE: I will, however, allow it.   
JANE: IF!  
GAMZEE: I'lL dO aNyThInG fOr YoU bOo BoO.

Jane hesitates. Maybe the clown hasn’t _quite_ rid her of all her shame. She straightens her spine against her own internal implication at anything less than full mental fortitude.

JANE: You know what I want you to say.

Gamzee drags his gaze from Jane’s breasts for the first time since she took her shirt off. A smile slowly spreads across his face. _It’s okay,_ Jane tells herself. _Nobody listens to Gamzee anyway, even if he did tell._

He opens his arms and she doesn’t let herself hesitate again. To ask is one thing. To do less than own it completely would make it into something bigger than it is. And it really is no big deal. She falls into his embrace and closes her eyes.

GAMZEE: yOu Be My SpEcIaL aNgEl.  
GAMZEE: I aLwAyS kNeW yOu CoUlD uP aNd Do AnYtHiNg BuT a MoThErFuCkEr CaN't HeLp BuT bE iMpReSsEd WhAt WiTh YoU aLl ExCeEdInG eVeN tHeM hIgH aS fUcK eXpEcTaTiOnS.  
GAMZEE: YoU mAkE a MoThErFuCkEr Up AnD rEpEnT hIs AuDaCiTy In ThInKiN tHeRe CoUlD bE aNy OtHeR gOd To WoRsHiP tHaN yOu.  
GAMZEE: MOTHERFUCKING HERESY.  
GAMZEE: I aM sO, sO pRoUd Of YoU.

When he kisses her on the forehead, it’s as close to innocent as he gets. He falls silent and lets her have her moment. His arms are so skinny, but strong. He’d do anything for her. She can admit now, privately, that she doesn’t really know why. But he’s hers. He _chose_ her. Dirk might have left and Jake and Roxy might only stay out of obligation, but Gamzee …

It’s not love. She would never ask him to go as far as to say that. That’s not on the cards for her, but that’s okay. She always knew she would have to sacrifice many things for her career.

JANE: Gamzee?  
GAMZEE: yEa DaIrY mOmMa?  
JANE: Fuck me.

Gamzee is almost gentle when he tips her back. Jane doesn’t mind it when he’s rough, it only speaks to how much he wants her. He pulls his shirt off as he stands up, and kicks his shoes and pants off, revealing his “troll bulge”. It looks an awful lot like a human’s penis and testicles. 

There’s just so much hair; it never fails to surprise her. There can’t be _more_ each time, by all logic the fact that he has _any_ doesn’t quite make sense. He doesn’t have arm or leg hair, and can’t grow facial hair. He just has the hair on his head, his eyebrows, and this mess of pubic hair that circles his dick, covers his balls and reaches back between his asscheeks.

It isn’t quite accurate to say the hair _covers_ the saggy grey skin of his balls. It just provides wirey decoration to draw the eye in. Jane can appreciate many attributes on a man, and in all honesty has admired the proportions of Jake’s equipment before, but she would be perfectly happy if Gamzee would fuck her with a little more erectile discretion. 

That isn’t Gamzee’s way, though. He has an incredibly misplaced pride in all of his presentation, and seems to be lingering above Jane in order to give her greater opportunity to admire him. She thinks perhaps it’s that his penis is so long and thin, making his sack look comparatively very plump. Plump and yet wrinkly simultaneously. Like two engorged, discoloured dates, or maybe saggy coconuts. Sometimes she touches them out of curiosity. They’re strangely heavy.

Gamzee stands above her for so long that for a moment, Jane thinks he might piss on her. It wouldn’t be the first time, and she would obviously be furious. It will be bad enough to leave her office smelling like sex and Gamzee, because she might still get out unnoticed, but piss has an unmistakably rancid smell. But she loves being angry at him. 

Gamzee catches her expression and somehow knows what she was thinking. He grins and cups his dick lewdly, his balls hanging in greater contrast with his dick hidden.

GAMZEE: SoRrY mY sTiCkY sIsTeR, tHe TaNk Is AlL eMpTy BeCaUsE mY bIg TiTtY bItCh Up AnD dEnIeD mE mY mIlKy MeEd.  
JANE: I gave you an order, clown.

Gamzee releases his dick and it flops flaccidly back between his legs. He waits for it to stop bouncing before kneeling down. He rips off her pants and pulls her heels off with them.

JANE: Tell me you didn’t break the stitching on those.  
GAMZEE: Aw HoNeYsLuT, i AiN't GoT a MoThErFuCkIn ClUe WhAt My StReNgTh CoMeS oUt At.

He doesn’t give her time to protest, he leans over her, back arched so that he can bury his face in her cleavage while also grinding his suddenly very hard dick against her. It seems to obey the laws of comedy and convenience rather than circumstance. One time it softened as she watched, accompanied by Gamzee playing a sad whistle noise.

GAMZEE: I'm GoNnA pUt My DeViL sTiCk In YoUr PoOnTaNg, PuSsY-pIe.  
JANE: Ooooh!

The noise escapes Jane’s lips without her quite meaning it to. He grinds against her again and she makes another moaning noise. He doesn’t just provide an outlet to which all her rage and fury is absorbed with no consequence, he has an unexplainable appeal, and he makes her forget all rules of propriety and sense with his touch. 

He pulls her panties away from her, the material clinging to her wetness until he drags it to the side. The lace is soft enough that it’s not _harsh_ , but it pulls it between her asscheeks and gives her a debauched feeling. 

He presses the head of his cock against her.

GAMZEE: HoNk. :o)

And then pushes inside.

JANE: FUCK!

He isn’t the kind to wait when there’s pleasure to be had and there’s nothing that feels better than his cock thrusting hard and fast. It’s so good she’d give it all up, all her influence and fortune; she doesn’t care if she screams down the building. Let them hear and let their questions about why she keeps him be answered. As if this is all there is to it.

JANE: HOO HOO HOO!  
GAMZEE: HONK!  
JANE: HONK!!!

Gamzee locks his lips around one of Jane’s nipples and sucks insistently as he fucks her, drinking as if he doesn’t need to breathe, and she’s not sure that he does. His skinny hips knock into her upper thighs, his pelvis into her clit, his balls slap gently against her ass. She grips his shoulders, where his bones would protrude were he human, but he’s not, he’s alien and it’s wrong what she’s doing, but she _deserves_ it. 

Jane’s screams and both of their honking last longer than any of her staff deem realistic. _It can’t be_ that _good,_ a secretary murmurs to a friend from the social media department. _Maybe she’s actually being murdered this time. What are the chances all trolls make a gal feel like that?_

Eventually, though, the salacious sounds die down. Jane sighs as Gamzee pulls slowly out of her, not quite loud enough to disguise the kind of unfortunate noise most people pretend they don’t hear following sex. Gamzee replicates it by blowing air through his lips, making them wobble loosely. Jane chuckles breathlessly. Let no one say she doesn’t have a sense of humour.

GAMZEE: YoU gOt A pReTtY cUnT, sExY pAnTs. ;o)

Gamzee pats Jane appreciatively on her crotch. Jane doesn’t bother slapping his hand away. He leers at her for a bit longer, and then drops to snuggle into her, lips reaching for her nipple to idly suckle at it.

JANE: Everything is fine, really.  
JANE: I have an awful lot to be thankful for.  
JANE: And there isn’t a single person out there that everyone likes, so I need to take it less personally that there are quite a few who aren’t my biggest fan.  
JANE: Of course there are!  
JANE: I’m a very high profile celebrity, I knew what this would be like. 

Jane takes a deep breath and smooths Gamzee’s hair out of his face. He looks up at her with guilless eyes for a moment before returning his attention to his milk.

JANE: Perhaps I’m too hard on Jake.  
GAMZEE: YoU cAn'T bE nIcE aT jAkE, sNoOkUmS, yOu KnOw ThAt.  
JANE: You don’t know that he would leave me if I loosened the leash a little. 

Gamzee honks in a way that neither agrees or disagrees. Jane forces herself to strengthen her resolve. She doesn’t need to complicate her life any more.

JANE: You won’t leave me, will you?  
GAMZEE: I nEeD yOu, BoO.  
GAMZEE: AiN't NoT aNoThEr In ThIs WoRlD fOr Me BuT yOu.  
JANE: Thank you, Gamzee. 

Jane has wet wipes in her handbag and several spare outfits in her office closet. She likes to be organised. Not just for this, but in the event that she needs to make a television appearance without stopping home, she’s prepared. 

She’ll get up in a minute. She’ll let herself have one more minute where she’s no better than a filthy trollfucker and as glorious to be worthy of a clown’s worship. One more minute where everything makes sense.

She doesn’t go a single second over her self-imposed time limit. Jane Crocker has exceptional self control and only one vice. And he shows himself out because she’s finished with him for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I had such a fun time writing this and I'm so sorry. I'm on Tumblr and Twitter, so tag me if you want to share your least favourite quotes! ;o)


End file.
